Nothing needs to be fixed

Early this week I was told by my family doctor that my eight year old son may have Aspergers syndrome. And as initially shocked as I was at the thought of him being possibly diagnosed with this, I have to say that I was not as surprised as some may have been. Of course, as a mother, I was upset! I went through all of the emotions; fear, a bit of anger (at myself and the unknowns) and yes, even relief. Relief because my son is nearly eight and I have been experiencing this feeling that something is, well, different, about him. Not bad, not broken, not wrong, just different with him. So different, that I actually had him tested for Autism when we lived in Germany, but that was back when he was two or so. Even after the two appointments with the doctor this week, the upcoming appointment with the school psychologist and his teacher, I am still not being hasty with placing any labels on my son. I feel that each of us is unique and special and it seems that the amazing uniqueness that my son displays are part of this syndrome.

But why is that? Why is it that he can sit for three hours and read Harry Potter but fails to grasp the concept of brushing his teeth after eating breakfast? Why can he construct the Lego version of the Millennium Falcon in less than two hours but not comprehend how to catch a ball? He can do math in his head, spat off facts of all things related to science and nature and still needs to be reminded to eat or he would starve. This is my son. This is the little boy who melts my heart and amazes me with his plethora of knowledge. He is the golden ray of light that shown so bright on me during my darkest days of my husbands' two deployments in Iraq. He was, and continues to be, an amazing little man; mature for his years and yet, far too sensitive for the real world. His is a sort of an enigma. Constantly keeping my guessing, changing my parenting ways and figuring out how to communicate with him. He tests my patience on an hourly basis and he teaches me something new even more frequently.

There is nothing that a doctor or a specialist or a psychiatrist can tell me that would ever change the way I fell about my son. As a mother, I am committed to making his life the best that it can possibly be, no matter where it takes me or how much the cost, emotionally or monetarily. This is my choice and my job, one that I do not take lightly. I love both of my children with everything that I have in my soul and everything that I strive to be comes from them. And so, for my children, for my son, I will be strong and will figure out how to fight with and for him, to make sure that he has the best life that he can have. I will not let any syndrome, diagnosis or illness make me, or anyone else, think less of my son. He is just as unique and special now as he has always been and I love him for bringing that into my life.